RPG Refreshed
by SnipersBane
Summary: Most, if not all, rps are fun. But is the writing really worth reading twice? Read a collection of scenes from various rpgs on , rewritten in the style of a novel.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Well, here it is, the first of many. I hope I didn't put anyone out of character, but keep in mind, this is a comedy one-shot! No killing me. ^_^

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"Christ…mas…party…" Volt said slowly, dead panned. Foxi nodded. "Yup."

"You're kidding right? We're superheroes. We don't have Chris-"

"And why not?" she demanded, hands on her hips. Red energy pooled around them as she dared Volt to challenge her idea.

He stood back, hands up. "No, no, you're right! We heroes don't get out enough…" She smiled brightly, turning to Dark, who had materialized beside her. "See! I told you he'd say yes."

Volt sprang back, his lightning swarming around him in the snowy streets of New York. "Dark!" he yelled, getting all dramatic _again._ If Dark so much as showed up he always had to strike a serious pose.

"You're not getting away this time! I'll defeat you, so that the world can remain in-" He stopped, puzzled. For some reason, he'd just lost the will to fight. Probably because it wouldn't work that well in a comedy piece of writing.

"Eh, alright…" he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Foxi smiled brightly. Again.

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The Day of the Christmas Party…er, Holiday Celebration, for the non-Christians out there…

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It was held in none other than the warehouse. Normally a large room, it was the pinnacle of technological advances, bought and engineered from the most brilliant minds in the industry. High tech computers, large LCD screens than slid out of the walls, gaming systems, bean bags…well, they _were_ teenagers. It couldn't be expected for _all_ of it to be business, after all, and the Christmas Party was a perfect example. For some odd reason, everyone invited had shown up.

Taral stood near the Kareoke machine, eyebrow twitching as he watched Kieran sing his heart out. Apparently the youth wanted a certain girl to hear his golden pipes, but she was nowhere to be seen. Not that he'd be getting off till he saw her, of course. He sang on, ignoring the growing line of prospective singers.

Dark was currently off with Foxi, talking with a few other villains from days past. "…and that's when I burnt the city block!" he finished with a laugh. The villains, who shall not be named due to copyright issues, all laughed along with him. "Man, that's great…the grim reaper owned. Reaping his owes! It's like he's reaping the grimness of…of…man, I think I'm drunk…" one responded, slowly falling off of his chair.

The others stared for a moment. "Oh…I didn't know there was beer here…" Foxi realized, much too late…for somewhere off on the other side of the warehouse, a great evil was being committed…

A horrible sight, one that no one should ever have to see…

"58 bottles of beer on the wall, 58 bottles of beeeeer!" Volt crooned, his arm around Paxis. Several other heroes were gathered around, recording on their camera phones. Volt swigged another Margareta at superspeed, then suddenly stopped singing.

"Paxis…man…yeeer great, man…yer the best," he slurred, looking at Paxis seriously. Paxis looked at him, alarmed. "I realllly appreiiiciate whatchoove dun here, Paxis...it's cool..."

"I think you've enough…" Paxis said tentatively, trying to take Volt's next drink away.

"…nnnNNOOOOOO!!!" Volt raged, stealing the drink away and running along the walls at superspeed. Unfortunately, while Volt has extensive super reflexes, they don't really work when he's drunk. So yeah, he ran head on into Darkfire, causing them both to fall to the ground, Volt giggling like an idiot and Darkfire growling something about consuming his soul.

"Volt…" Darkfire said darkly, picking him up by his shirt. Volt hiccupped in his face. Darkfire dropped him disgustedly, shaking his head. _What a surprise…I should've known I wouldn't be allowed to hide near the rafters for long._

"Daaaarkfireeeee!" Darkfire turned, blinking in alarm. A veritable flood of people were running towards him, despite the dark armor and generally creepy appearance. Were they…_fangirls?_

He backed up, very, very disturbed. What girl in their right mind would idolize someone like him? He jumped to take flight, leaving a disappointed Sasuke-type loving crowd behind him. _Rediculous..._he thought, rolling his eyes. Fangirls were especially rabid when they pitied the emo character in an anime. He didn't act like that, did he? Still, this was a nice position. He had a great view of the party, and as far as he could see, everything was going well.

_Who's that?_ He wondered, swooping down next to a strange figure. The person wore an elegant uniform, and a mirrored helmet on top. What was he doing…playing chess?

"See, this is the Latin Defense, created by Delarosa Hazgardi," he explained, gesturing to the chessboard. A bored group of people sat around him.

"Uh huh…" said Sparkle, blinking slowly. "What does the horse do again?" Savior's eyebrow twitched.

"It…moves in an L formation…" he started, before Stacy piped up, "She didn't really wanna know, you know. She just wants you to stop talking."

Savior paused, sighing. _Fine…_ he muttered inwardly, extending his hands to the chessboard. Suddenly the game shifted into a warzone, complete with flinging spells and incredible detail. The people gaped, watching closely.

"Good!" Savior said brightly, gesturing to the chair in front of him. "Now it's "fun", right!? Someone, go against me!"

And just like that, it wasn't fun anymore. He slumped in his chair as they left, shaking his head. _Barbarians...I'm willing to bet Taral doesn't have to deal with stuff like this…_

Taral, sadly, _did_ have to deal with stuff like that. Namely, trying to pull Kieran off of the Kareoke stage.

"No! Taral, wait! Just one more song, I know she's coming- Meghan!" Kieran's eyes lit up as the crowd groaned. Meghan froze in place. _Crap! He's here!_

"Waaaaiit! It's time for a duet!" he yelled, chasing her. "Stay away from me!" she countered, laughing. He dropped the microphone and ran in earnest, ducking beneath beams and dodging between party goers.

"Goddess! Just wait for a second- It's fun, I'm telling you!" he tried, nearing her. Meghan wasn't looking back, however, which hurt...or...wait, she was watching the ground! _Why? I don't see anything,_ he thought as she jumped.

He, unfortunately, didn't, and ended up sprawling across the floor as Muffy yowled in indignation. _You bumbling fool of an apprentice!_ she yelled telepathically, trying to right herself without looking too hampered. She sighed inwardly as she saw him get up, running once more. _Teenagers...never any respect..._ she huffed, licking a paw in annoyance.

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All in all, the party was an…interesting reprieve from normal battle life. Foxi ended up spending the night with Dark, since the warehouse was basically destroyed. Darkfire sought reprieve from his army of fangirls within the alleyways of New York, and Meghan did in fact evade Kieran long enough to catch a cab for her and Stacy. Muffy managed to get her coat clean again.

In fact, the only person left the morning after the party was a single hero…currently suffering from his first hangover.

"WHY DO I HAVE TO CLEAN ALL OF THIS?!?" Volt raged, looking at the tornado of a mess before him.


	2. Chapter 2

Pounding rain, like millions of tiny lashes against my back. There wasn't much I could do about that, other than raise my fist to the heavens and scream my rage. It's not like it would do anything, of course, except force me to expose my face to the rain for that much longer. I suppose I could just live with the rain. Enjoy it, maybe. Maybe I should view it like the farmers, as a necessity. Maybe I should look at this heavy rain like the depressed do, like it's a signal of the world's sympathy.

Personally, I see rain as rain. Heavy, dark stuff that makes you slip and inevitably causes you to chill to the bone, no matter how warm the day is when it starts. Just the idea of rain tends to send a ripple of goosebumps up and down my arms, whether I'm okay with that or not. It's a major cause of car accidents, you know, and no story that starts with the phrase "It was a dark and stormy night" ever seems to come to a happy ending.

Rain also tends to hang around funerals. Did you know that?

Chapter One:

It was a Dark and Stormy Night

**There's a lot to say. Why don't you start at the beginning?**

Christopher's kind of a strange name, isn't it? I mean, sure. I like it well enough- it's my name, I'd better like it at least a little bit. But I noticed a long time that it really is odd. First of all, it starts out with "Christ". I can't say I've got anything against the guy, but I also don't really like the idea of having to live up to that every time someone says my name. I can't be expected to have a miracle on hand, now can I? Then there's that ending, like someone slapped a "opher" on the end without hardly caring. If I'm already stuck with Christ as the beginning, why try to soften the blow with opher? It's not going to fool anyone. I read somewhere that everyone tries to live up to their name if they find out what it means. Subconsciously or something.

That reminds me, actually. Where did I put that book? I remember it was right there, and then Michael walked over...was it third period? Maybe second, now that I think about it. Perhaps-

"Chris!" I snapped awake. I wasn't really sleeping, of course, but I can't say I was awake either. That's generally how I make it through school. The alarm clock for this particular moment happened to be Sarah. She's just one of those girls who sits next to you but isn't the most important thing around. I've never really thought about dating her or anything, but if I had to give an opinion I'd say she's exceptionally pretty. Actually, maybe it _is_ odd after all, the fact that I've never asked her out. Should I-

"Good God, Chris. Would you at least say something?" she asked, exasperated. I realized quickly that I hadn't responded.

"Oh, y-yeah, right," I said quickly, pulling the headphones from around my ears. Music tends to be everywhere for me. It's much more interesting than silence, after all. "Did you want something?" I asked, quickly pulling a practiced innocent look.

Sarah sighed, turning to her book bag in a huff. She started clasping it together, sliding in various textbooks. What, now that I'd answered she wouldn't say anything?

"Did you at least get the homework?" she asked stiffly, turning her head sharply to glare at me with condemning eyes. I nodded automatically, wondering if it would be checked tomorrow or not. I'd probably been zoned out when it was being handed out, but Sarah breathed a sigh of relief and nodded to herself. I'd probably just confirmed for her that I had a trace of sanity left.

If you haven't guessed by now, we're students and you're probably an idiot. The full name I write down on what I do turn in to the teachers is Christopher Walken Maverick. Yes, like the actor. Blame my parents, I don't understand the name either. Sarah doesn't have a last name, or if she does I've forgotten it, which will probably get me in trouble later.

I stood up from my small, old fashioned desk, stretching out in the sunlight. My desk was situated next to the windows- the prime spot for a student highly skilled at daydreaming the day away. Beams of warm light shone through the tall windows, illuminating rectangular boxes of dust that swirled in the air as I moved. It was pretty musty in the old classroom. I'd heard from somewhere that it used to be a regular old house once, but that it'd been renovated by the Barrows Town Committee. Now it's a two room school, complete with two teachers and about 45 students split among the two schools. All the grades are mixed, but seeing as the entire town of Barrows probably amounts to a little under two hundred and fifty people, I don't worry too much. The Barrows Town Committee really oversees everything, actually.

I stared through the windows for a long moment as I debated what to do with what remained of my day. The farmers just outside hardly paused to give me the time of day, which I didn't mind in the slightest. Nearly everyone's a farmer anyways, except for a few families like mine. We run a Diner, which is a massively big deal for a town our size. Anyways. I was going to say something about Sarah, but I actually think it's a better idea to just get on with what happened.

Sarah stood up to her full height, which wasn't exactly a towering figure. Now that I've started noticing things around me for the first time in maybe three hours, I guess she's better looking than I gave her credit for. We've got a very conservative uniform here, though I don't have much to compare it with. A long green skirt and a plain, long sleeved button up shirt just about completes the entire thing, but she manages to make it quite suggestive. I'm not entirely sure it's even her size, but that's more likely what perversions I have than any real truth. Sarah would never consciously wear anything too small, but...well, I suppose you've gotten the idea by now.

She noticed me staring. That's probably a bad thing. Better fix that right now.

"Hey, you've got something on your shoulder," I said plainly, moving forward and picking an imaginary length of lint off of her perfectly ironed uniform. I tossed it behind me with a blank expression, to which she automatically rolled her eyes and started to leave the classroom.

I stood there for a long moment, watching her leave. Her heels clicked against the old wooden floors like they were built to keep time, to click twice every second like clockwork. Every half-tic brought her a bit farther away and a bit closer to the sliding door, but this day she suddenly stopped. Her time-keeping heels clicked out of beat, causing me to blink from the disconcerting effect as she turned around, glaring at me with something like concerned frustration. I think that's what it was, at least- her gold curls tend to get in the way when she's in a huff.

"Christopher!"

That meant something bad, like usual. Has anyone yelling someone's non-shortened name ever meant something good..._ever? _I'm legitimately asking you this question, by the way. You don't have to answer, just think about it.

Oh, right. Sarah was yelling. Her green eyes were positively vibrating with annoyance.

"Yes?" I answered calmly, setting my leather book bag on my desk like nothing was the matter. It rasped against the polished wood quietly, but the sound was loud in the nearly empty room. I think everyone had left by then, and Sarah was a short rant away from leaving.

The girl in question set her jaw, holding her bag in front of her with both hands as she struggled to keep her composure. She did some odd movement with her chin where she propped it up at the same time as she straightened her shoulders, as if she was physically gathering her strength for the coming assault. I've heard it all before, of course.

_Why won't you just come home earlier? No one comes to the club anyways._

_ You know, that Ice Cream shop down the street just opened. Why don't you come along?_

_ I heard Jennifer McGonnery said she thought you were cute. Come meet her with me!_

They were slightly more than useless, but I couldn't just leave, not after all I'd put into this club of mine. The Supernatural Investigations Club, or SIC, as I like to call it. Sarah's right, of course. No one comes to the club and I always end up setting up by myself, sitting down in a desk and doing my own research. But I can't leave. It's the one thing I'm interested in. For me, everything but investigating the Supernatural is just keeping boredom at bay. I suppose I enjoy cooking and listening to music and talking to Sarah, but honestly there's nothing more relaxing after a long day of ignoring school than to sit down and read about something _really_ interesting, you know?

I guess you don't, or you would have come to the Club once in awhile. That's okay, though, I was fine with being alone.

"I'm coming today."

What?

"Today, Chris. I'm coming to your stupid little club today."

Blink. Blink again, then blink once more as you put your hands in your pockets, Chris. Let's think this one over for a sec. She did say she was coming, right? Yes, yes she did. Well, everything starts somewhere. For now, just don't screw this up. Make sure you do something right.

I fell over myself anyways, managing to bang my knee into my own desk. Stupid hardwood.

"That's...that's great," I said lamely, gesturing to one of the twenty or so desks in the room. Sarah gave a prudish glance around, choosing a seat in the front after a moment of deliberation. I'd never known she was so picky, but that wasn't really something I could worry about. I quickly grabbed my own bag and ran towards the front, grabbing a desk and sliding it to sit across from hers.

I sat in it, looking at her from my seat.

She stared back.

"...Are you going to do anything?" she finally asked, raising one eyebrow. Oh. Right. I'd never had anyone else show up, so I wasn't exactly sure what to do there. Um. Right. SIC.

"Right, of course we are. I was just testing your patience," I said automatically, reaching into my bag. What to show, what to show...there was the Loch Ness book I was reading, but everyone knew about that myth. To be honest, I don't even really believe it to this day. Maybe talk about Ghosts? Not very original- she'd probably tag the entire club as one kid's attempt to talk to his dead grandfather.

"You passed, by the way," I added, just to make her feel comfortable. Oh, of course. SIC had it's own special parts, after all. Everyone loves to hear spooky tales about their own home town, and after what had just happened at our school, I was sure it was the perfect one to tell.

I sat up in my seat, pulling out a thin Manilla folder. Hastily scrawled across the front was a simple title that would become the most unnerving thing I would ever encounter.

The Hell Phone


End file.
